


all is calm, all is bright

by virtuosity



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Holiday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuosity/pseuds/virtuosity
Summary: twelve days of holiday fluff featuring trees, snow, and a puppy
Relationships: Morgan Rielly/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 56
Kudos: 97





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's day one of my TMo 12 Days! I'm not planning on making them overly long just because I don't think I can right now, but I hope they're good enough! I got a bunch of AMAZING prompts so I hope I can do them justice. Enjoy!

It’s the stockings, she thinks, that push her over the top. 

She puts hers up first and then Morgan’s and then Zoë’s and when they’re lined up prettily in a row it really hits her. She’d been keeping it all at a distance as best she could; It felt too fragile, like if she acknowledged it, held it too tightly, it would shatter. 

For a long time she thought she wasn’t built for a life like this. She didn’t know how to settle anywhere, couldn’t imagine a life of anything constant beyond the fact that nothing was constant (except skating, except Scott), and the year after the Olympics only reinforced it. Even as a teenager, home was this strange, transient thing which she supposes happens when you leave home so young. Sometimes she thinks that she loves Christmas because it was the one time she was home and it felt magical (as long as she willfully ignored that voice in the back of her head that still felt like a stranger even surrounded by presents and cookies and laughter, as long as she buried it below long hugs from her mom and late night talks with Jordan). 

Even in the last few years, being home was seeing her family and packing to leave again, but now she looks around and home is this place with their dog splayed out on the floor and their books mixed up on the shelves and the man smiling sleepily at her from the couch. 

She has always been a homebody, she just never had a home. 

She pushes to her feet and flicks off the main light, sending the room into twinkling shadows, lit only by the big tree by the window. 

Morgan opens his arms as she moves toward him, welcoming her in, and she settles against him comfortably, curling around him, breathing him in. 

“Happy?” he murmurs and she nods. “And how many trees left?”

She grins and looks up at him, chin on his chest. “Two.”

“Right. And where are we going to put them?” he asks. 

“One is going in the bedroom,” she says definitively. “And one is going wherever I make it fit.”

“Got it,” he says. “And that’s not too many trees?”

“If you ask me it’s not enough, but I’ll make do.” 

He pokes her softly in the side. “You want a fourth tree?”

“Maybe,” she says cheekily. 

“Then we’ll get a fourth tree,” he replies softly. 

She tightens her hold around him and buries her face his neck. “You’re too good to me.” 

“I’m okay,” he answers, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "It's just a tree."

"It's not. It's a lot more than tree."


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely response to day 1!! It made me happy to know people enjoyed it however short. Today's is from the prompt 'Putting the star/angel on top of the tree (only he can reach). Maybe he can lift her up'. I enjoyed writing this one but I don't know how I feel about it at the end. I hope it's fun to read regardless!

“How do we not have a single stepladder in this place?” she murmurs as she bustles into the kitchen behind him, opening and closing the cupboards. 

“In what world would I need a stepladder?” he asks leaning back in his chair at the desk to look at her. 

“Fine, maybe you don’t but not all of us can be climbed like a tree.” 

He pushes his chair back and moves toward her. “As fun as that sounds right now, you also do not need a stepladder. You have a step-boyfriend.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Don’t call yourself that, it makes it seem like we’re related.”

He laughs. “Okay, but the point still stands.”

“You’re not even that much taller than me!” she says indignantly. “What like four inches?” 

“Six and a half, thank you.”

She stares at him for a moment and he can tell she’s biting back a smile. He feels his face flush. “You’ve done the math?”  
  
“No,” he replies. “Maybe.” 

She grins at him and he continues, “Don’t you dare judge me. I’ve seen that incomprehensible highlighter system you study with and I’ve said nothing.”

She raises her hands in concession before she pushes past him and starts rummaging through the hall closet. 

“What do you even need the stepladder for?” he asks as he follows her, leaning against the wall. 

Her hand pops out of the closet and gestures vaguely at the second tree she’s been working on in the foyer. It’s fully decorated except for the delicate star that had belonged to her grandmother that she’d carefully unpacked that morning, eyes shining with tears of love and longing. 

“Do you need me to put the star on top for you?”

“No, I do not,” she replies firmly as she steps back out of the closet and walks back over to the tree to pick up the star. She stares up at the tree challenging for a moment before jumping several times, missing the top of the tree by several inches each time. 

“For someone so graceful, you’re really not very graceful sometimes,” he says and she glares at him. “I’m just saying.” 

She jumps again and he walks over to her. “I want to do it,” she insists. 

“I could lift you up?”

“Nope,” she replies quickly. 

“You’ve spent your whole life being lifted and now you say no?” he asks with a laugh. 

“That’s exactly why I’m saying no,” she murmurs petulantly. “I don’t need to be lifted to get things done.”

“Ah,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “This has become another firm statement of your independence and capability as an individual.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is,” he says quietly, resting his head against hers. “It’s been happening less lately, but it happened a lot last year. Especially in December.” 

She’s quiet for a moment then softly, “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he reassures. “I get it. I just don’t want you to think that you can’t need me if you want to.” 

“I do want to need you,” she insists. 

“Then?”   


She rolls her eyes and steps away, picking up the star and placing it in his hands. “Fine, but be careful.”  
  
He smiles softly at her before saying, “This from the girl who tried to get it up there by jumping like a five year old.” 

“Okay I take it back, put the star down.” 

“No,” he says with a laugh holding it out of her reach. 

“Fine,” she huffs before moving toward the door. 

“Where are you going?”

“I am going to Canadian Tire and I am going to buy a stepladder and I am going to do this myself,” she answers pulling on her coat. 

“Can I come?” he asks cheekily. 

“Now I can’t go to a treasured Canadian institution without help?”

“Aren’t  _ you _ a treasured Canadian institution?” he asks and she can’t help but laugh. “I have complete faith in your ability to go to Canadian Tire alone. I just like to be with you.”

She flushes slightly and groans. “No, don't be sweet - I can't argue with that!” 

He grins smugly and she grabs Zoe’s leash off the hook by the door and tosses it at him. “Go get the child.”

“You got it.” 


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3! I had many prompts for Zoë's first snow or Zoë and snow or just Zoë in the general vicinity of anything at all so let's take a trip to a winter wonderland with the puppy. (Yes I really said that.) Enjoy!

She likes snowstorms because they make everything quiet. Even in a large city like Toronto that is always bustling with sound and energy, snowstorms force everything to slow down. Streets empty of cars and people, and those that do make their way out move carefully and quietly. 

She knows that people find it funny that she prefers silence over music more often than not, but she thinks they might feel differently if they saw it her way. Her life was spent in rinks where when their music wasn’t playing over and over and over again, pounding movement and melody into her bones, someone else’s likely was, and silent rinks were a rarity earned only with an extra early wake up call. Also, to be honest, Scott is chatty. 

So when she wakes one morning in mid-December to a world of white, she can’t help but feel a thrill. 

She rolls over and nudges herself beneath the outstretched arm of the man next to her, waking him gently. He murmurs something unintelligible and she smiles, waiting for him to reach a point of consciousness where he’ll make sense. “Morning,” he says, voice raspy and smirks when her face flushes a little. He knows that his early morning voice does things to her - and not all of them are dirty, she always feels lucky when she gets to be the first one to hear him when he wakes. It was a luxury they hadn’t really had much until they first huddled together in March in Vancouver to ride out the lockdown, and now that they live together, she gets it all the time. 

“Morning,” she replies. “It’s a winter wonderland outside.”

“Is it?” he asks twisting his head to look toward the large windows. “Oh, it really is. They were only saying a few centimeters.”

“Well then I think they were wrong,” she laughs. 

She hears the click of nails on the floor and sits up a little to see Zoë making her way into the bedroom to jump on the bed and flop her head onto their legs. “Good morning, my love,” she says and reaches over to scratch behind her ears. Zoë, true to form, rolls toward her for more scratches, but her face remains neutral as if nothing had changed. 

Morgan turns to his side and runs his fingers through the dog’s fur as well. “You get to experience something new today, Zozo. It’s cold and it’s wet, but I think you’ll like it anyway.”

She gives a small gasp, “You’re right! It’s Zoë’s first snow!”

He smiles at her softly, “This will involve a photoshoot of some kind won’t it?”

“Yes it will,” she grins back. “It needs to be documented.” 

“You’re right,” he replies leaning over to kiss her softly. “Can’t imagine what this will be like if we have kids.”

He stands and pats for Zoë to follow him, talking to her gently as they make their way toward the kitchen. She stares after him for a moment, before calling, “You promised you wouldn’t just say stuff like that anymore!” His laughter echoes down the hall as she pushes to her feet to follow them. 

Two cups of coffee and a laughter filled conversation about ‘what if we named our possible future children after Santa’s reindeer’ they step from the lobby of their building to the sidewalk and take in the full extent of the snow. 

The city sparkles in the way it only can when the sun emerges after a snowstorm. People are beginning to make their way into the drifts, and the quiet she had been hoping for settles over her. It’s comforting, like a blanket. She wonders idly if that’s why people say things are blanketed it in snow. 

Morgan tugs her hand to get her attention and gestures at Zoë. She looks down and stifles a laugh. Zoë's expression has transformed from its normal general teenage blankness to something more like startled confusion. Morgan kneels beside the dog and nudges her gently.

With a last look back at him, Zoë moves gingerly toward the snow bank in front of the building. She reaches in tenderly with one paw and retracts it quickly, and Tessa’s heart aches a little. She knows that every pet owner thinks theirs is special, but there really is something special about Zoë. Early on they had been afraid that her timidity was a sign that she was scared or unhappy, but it quickly became clear that it wasn’t fear, it was carefulness. She considered things before she did them, but once she’d made a decision she was all in. Tessa heard somewhere once that dogs find their people by looking for kindred souls, and it’s certainly true for Zoë. She’s contemplative like Tessa, and tender like Morgan, and loves them on purpose, the same way they love each other. 

Zoë leads them across the street to the park in the center of the square with slow, careful steps in the snow. She stops at the entrance and tilts her head to the side for a moment before bolting forward and burrowing into the snow in front of her, rolling quickly and kicking it with her feet.

They both laugh as she continues to twist in it, snapping at it as it tumbles over her. 

Morgan reaches for her hand as they watch her play and she feels a happiness so clear that it scares her. As if sensing the way her introspectiveness wants to take her into something more complicated than a snow day with her family, he pulls her into him and hugs her tightly. 

“Breathe, love,” he says quietly into her ear. “It’s okay not to worry sometimes.”

“Promise?” she asks as she presses her cold nose into his neck. 

“Promise.”


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4! Someone suggested they make their own eggnog and here we are. Also these are un-betaed, just as a warning, in case there are many many mistakes. Thought it might be a good idea to mention that at this point. Enjoy!

"Did you know that eggnog is also called 'milk punch'?"

He looks up from his phone to find her leaning on the kitchen island staring at hers.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is going to lead to me making eggnog?" 

She looks up at him with a smile. "Because you are a very smart man."

He stands up and joins her in the kitchen. "Do you want to share the other various eggnog facts that were going to get us to this point or are you good?" 

"Eggnog can be traced back to medieval times."

He laughs and she grins. 

"It was also a cold remedy."

"Good to know."

"And Lady Macbeth used it to get to Duncan in Macbeth."

"Fascinating," he added as he pulls her toward him and kisses her forehead. 

"I thought so," she says, wrapping her arms around him. 

"So do I need to order eggs?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You knew enough to know we would be making eggnog but not that I would plan ahead?" 

"Good point. Do I need to walk over there and get the eggs then?"

"That would be lovely, yes."

He gives her a quick kiss and moves to the fridge and she adds, "Also the milk and the heavy cream in the door please." 

"Yes dear."

She smiles at him over her shoulder and he winks at her. It had started as a joke, way back when they were new and fresh and still learning how they fit together. She was going to be in town for an entire week and he had been trying to convince her that she didn't need to get a hotel. He'd included perks like special wakeup calls, breakfasts in bed, and the icing on the cake was he would be at her beck and call for whatever she desired. 

"Whatever I desire?" she had asked. 

"Yes ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am," she had said and he could hear the wrinkle in her nose.

"Yes dear."

She had laughed quietly at that and said, "Like we're an old married couple?" 

"Yep. Why not?" 

She'd gone quiet for a moment and given a small, sweet, "okay."

"Okay you'll just stay with me or okay we'll be an old married couple?" he had teased. 

"Let's start with the one and we'll see," she had teased back. 

He sets the eggs, milk, and cream on the island and nudges her lightly. "What's next?" 

"Ummm, next you make the eggnog," she says, turning and pulling herself up to sit on the island. He moves to stand between her knees and puts his hands on her hips. 

"Oh I see how it is," he says. 

"I'll still be involved! Just in an advisory capacity."

"Right, of course." 

She runs her fingers through his hair, pulling playfully on his ears. "If you need more convincing, you can use rum."

He perks up. "Oh yeah?" Rum makes her particularly handsy and she knows he loves it. 

"Mm-hmm," she murmurs, scratching her nails lightly over the back of his neck. He feels a shiver run down his spine. 

"Can we start with the rum?" he asks with a grin. She throws her head back laughing and he takes the opportunity to lean in and nip at the spatter of freckles where her neck meets her shoulder. 

She wraps her arms around him, keeping him close and says, "Maybe just a little."

He moves his head up to capture her lips with his and says, "You'll have to let me go for that."

"Maybe not then," she replies, deepening their kiss.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit different. It reflects kinda how I'm feeling right now which is a little less fluffy but I think it ended up in a pretty happy place. Hope you all like it!

Things can get to be a little too much for him sometimes. Especially around the holidays. Especially this year. 

He loves people, he does. He loves his team and his friends and his family. He loves the kids he gets to surprise with chats and even the reporters that he has to talk to. And he _loves_ his girlfriend.

But sometimes he feels like he has a finite amount of himself to give and he's given away too much. And this year, despite the fact that he's seen fewer people in the last nine months than he'd seen in one month the year before, has lessened the amount of himself he has to offer. 

It's Friday and they aren't training today, and when his body wakes him at seven he thinks about how Christmas is in a week and the eight Zoom calls he'd had in the last two days and that (hopefully) training camps will start before the New Year and how he was going to make Tessa's mom's gingerbread so they can build houses and he just can't. 

He's maxed out. He needs the day but he doesn't know how to tell her. 

He drifts back to sleep before he figures it out. At some point he thinks he feels her shift behind him and his mind tries to find words to tell her how he feels, but then there's a soft kiss to his temple and a whisper that sounds a lot like "it's okay" and he's asleep again before he decides if it's real or not. 

He wakes around midday to a dim room and a quiet home. He feels better. He releases a grateful breath and slides from the bed to pad softly down the hall.

He finds them curled up on the small couch in the office and feels whatever little bit of tension that remained dissipate. Tessa has a book in her lap and a dog asleep on her legs and he's so in love with her it hurts. 

He steps into the room and she looks up, the concerned crinkle between her eyes that she gets when she's worried in place. "You're up."

"Yeah," he replies, moving toward her. 

She sits up slightly and Zoë wakes and jumps from the couch at the sight of him. He kneels and meets her, scratching behind the ears and getting a soft nuzzle in return. 

"Did I wake you?" Tessa asks, worrying her lip between her teeth. 

He shakes his head. "The opposite, really." 

"I know we were supposed to bake today and decorate the houses, but you just seemed so tired last night. Not just sleepy tired, but you were, I don't know, you seemed overwhelmed. I wanted to give you some time?" She's talking quickly, the way she does when she doesn't think she's got the right answer to a question and he stands so he can reach for her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

"Thank you," he says and she smiles up at him. 

He sits next to her and she grabs his hand. "If you need some more time, it's totally fine." 

"I'm good."

"We don't have to do anything today. And I know that sometimes you just get tired of being around people so I can just stay in here and-" 

"Tess. You're not people," he says quietly and he realizes just how true it is. When he's tired of everyone and maxed out being around others, that doesn't include her. "It doesn't take anything out of me to be around you. You don't drain me. You fill me up." 

She gives him her big, wide smile, the one that's for the people she loves, and he smiles back before pulling her nto his side. She curls into him and lays her head on his chest. 

"We can bake tomorrow."

"What if I wanna bake today?"

"Then we can bake whenever you want," she answers looking up at him. 

"I think I'm in the mood to make a better gingerbread house than you today."

She sits up and gasps indignantly. "That is rude. And also impossible."

"I don't know, I don't think you can medal in gingerbread houses," he says with a grin. 

"I don't need more medals. I just need to do better than you. Which shouldn't be hard," she says, eyes sparkling. 

"Winner picks dinner?" 

"You're on. I think I'll pick that place with the really good butter chicken."


	6. paper rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas Eve and he has a ring burning a hole in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be the crowning chapter 12 to my 12 days but my anxiety got the best of me and I we're only halfway through unfortunately. but I still wanted to post it for today. I'm going to do my best to try and get more days posted though, several are close to done! 
> 
> merry Christmas Eve to all those who do that 💕

It’s Christmas Eve and he has a ring burning a hole in his pocket. 

He’s planned this whole thing, something as grand and romantic as the pandemic will allow, wanting to give her something as special as she is, like in the books she loves, but he’s standing in the doorway watching her put lotion on her legs before bed and it’s taking everything in him not to do it right now. He’s been carrying the ring around with him for days, not because he thinks she’ll stumble upon it, but because the feeling of being able to propose to her at any moment filled him with a special kind of happiness. 

Christmas Eve has always been the big day for him and his family. Christmas Day in the Rielly household is all about sleeping in, cinnamon rolls, and playing with your new stuff, but Christmas Eve, that’s for the big dinner and family and laughter. Though not this year, or so he’d expected. But Tessa had other plans. 

He’s not even sure how she set it all up, but she managed for them to share a meal across the country. She coordinated with his mom for them to eat the same things, she coordinated with his brother to set up a foolproof (ish) video link from his parents to aunts and uncles and grandparents, and he was able to sit across from them at the table and see them smile and hear them laugh and just for a moment it didn’t feel quite so far. 

He crosses the room to where she sits on the edge of the bed, tangling a hand in her hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead, and he can’t help but sink to his knees in front of her. She looks down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair, murmuring about how she’s so happy it’s growing out again, and the words whisper against the soft skin of her wrist. 

“Marry me.” 

She pauses, hand on his cheek, and he looks up to find her eyes wide and shining, a mixture of disbelief and hope flickering in them. 

He says it again, louder but not loud, protecting the careful quiet of the air between them, and he can see her breath speed up, smile itching at the edges of her lips. 

“Are you sure?”

He can’t help but laugh at that - leave it to Tessa to doublecheck her own happiness - and nods. He pulls the ring from his pocket, holding the Tiffany teal box in his palm for her to take. Rather than pick it up, she wraps her hands around his, tangling their fingers together as she opens it. He can’t deny that he’s imagined what she would like in this moment. He’s seen her happy, seen her ecstatic even, but he’d wondered if it would look something like winning a gold medal. It doesn’t. This look - it’s theirs. The delicate joy radiating from her, that’s nothing like anything either of them has experienced. It’s just for them, in the quiet of their bedroom, in their home, with the snuffle of their dog sleeping in the hall. 

Her smile is more blinding than the diamond she’s revealed. 

The ring is classic, like she is, and she runs a finger over it lightly. 

He finds himself suddenly impatient to see what it looks like on her hand, and reaches up to pluck the ring from the box, grasping her left hand gently, stretching out her fingers and moving to slide it on, but she stops him. He looks up at her questioningly, heart in his throat, and she tangles the fingers of his right hand in the collar of his shirt. 

“You got to say your line,” she says, softly. “Let me say mine.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her fingers. “Right, so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she says teasingly. Then, with a deep breath, she murmurs, “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

“A thousand times yes? Bewitched body and soul?”

She giggles. “Exactly.”

He raises an eyebrow at her and she nods, so he slides the ring onto her finger. Finally. She does a happy little shimmy in her seat and he laughs. Their lips meet again and again in happy, silly, short kisses, both smiling so much it results in mostly kissing teeth. 

After a moment he pulls back and she rests her forehead on his, breathing quickly. 

“I had a whole thing planned,” he says with a quiet laugh. “But then I just...yeah.”

She cups the back his neck with both hands and meets his eyes intently. “Don’t need a whole thing. I’d marry you with a Ring Pop.” 

He feels himself flush. She’s always tried to show him that at the end of the day, she just needs him and the rest is gravy, but he’s never believed it more than in this moment. 

“But this one’s all right,” she continues with tongue-touched smile, holding her hand up to the light. 

He pushes up from his knees to nudge her onto her back on the bed, giving her cheek and neck silly smacking kisses. She wraps her arms around him and says through laughter, "I can't believe you apologized to me during your proposal. How Canadian _are_ you."


End file.
